


City of Lights

by Calleva



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris | Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, Drama & Romance, F/M, Paris (City)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 10:35:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20852030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calleva/pseuds/Calleva
Summary: Sequel to Beloved StrangerParis in Springtime - what better place to be with the one you love? At home in the USA, Amy has not heard from Rochefort for some time, but suddenly receives a note with a plane ticket to France. Excited, she joins him and he shows her the sights of his home city. Shopping, eating, loving - what better place to be?Until danger catches up with them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The real Amy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+real+Amy).

Paris in the springtime with the one you love.....

Amy accepted the glass of champagne from the stewardess and settled into her seat for the long flight. She had only once travelled out of the US, for her grandmother's eightieth birthday party in Scotland, so at least she had a passport. When Rochefort had sent the open plane ticket, she only had to pack and she was good to go. 

She smiled as she flicked open the Guidebook to the 'City of Lights' and tried to read, but her mind was too full of excitement and anticipation. He was in his home country and he wanted her there with him! It must be wonderful to be back in Paris after four hundred years - it would have changed beyond anything he could imagine. She hoped he wouldn't be disappointed.

No, he'd relish exploring his old stamping ground. She smiled to herself. As soon as she'd received his summons she'd made preparations: "Paris in the Spring is worth the wait. See you soon, love, R xx". Remembering his comments about her 'men's clothes' she went shopping and bought a smart pair of women's trousers and an elegant pencil skirt from TJ Maxx which showed off her slim figure. She'd also packed the underwear from Victoria's Secret which he liked. Paris in April wouldn't be especially warm so she splurged on a good coat on which she pinned the little 'Aimée' brooch he'd given her.

Amy hadn't seen Rochefort for weeks. Not since he left on his first mission for his new employer. "I can't tell you much about it," he'd told her, "but don't worry if you don't hear from me for a while. I'll let you know as soon as I can." Amy was sure it was something dangerous, the kind of work which goes unreported or as a few lines in the middle pages of a newspaper: 'man's body found in river, no further leads'. Well whatever it was, he'd completed it and was still alive. Thank goodness!

Despite her excitement she managed to sleep a little in the business class seat - presumably courtesy of Rochefort's expenses budget - and soon she found herself in Charles de Gaulle airport collecting her rather shabby suitcase and heading for the exit. Where he would be waiting.

Should she run into his arms or would he be all French and subtle, embarrassed by such a gushy display of emotion? The sight of him in a dark leather jacket and chinos, bright blue eyes beneath a mass of blond hair made her catch her breath.  
"Cherie!" he caught her in his arms and plonked a firm kiss on her mouth. "How was your journey? You must be tired." He took her suitcase and led her towards his waiting car. Amy gave a little laugh as she registered the German badge on the sleek convertible, "A lot of time has passed since I collected you from the hospital in my little car!" 

He gave a tight smile, "You saved my life. Jump in!"  
"So how do you like Paris?"  
He gunned the engine and headed out of the car park. "It's different," he muttered.  
"You like driving I think."  
"It's quicker than riding a horse, though with the top down, I can imagine I am cantering on the road to St Germain with the wind in my hair. These days it's a straight drive along the dual carriageway. Faster but dull." He pressed a button and music came on; something stately and old, Lully, perhaps. My, you could take the nobleman out of the seventeenth century but you couldn't take the seventeenth century out of the man.  
"You might like to unpack and relax in the hotel for a while, get used to the time difference. You hungry? I'd like to eat out tonight so room service will do for lunch."

Amy was so busy gazing at Rochefort's profile that she almost forgot to look out of the window as Paris went by. "I can hardly believe I'm in Europe! I hope you'll have time to show me the city."  
"Of course, I have some freedom now my work is complete."  
Amy was silent for a while, "I daren't ask what you were doing?"  
He reached from the steering wheel and grasped her hand for a moment, "I can't say much... I was working with some Mohammedans to break up a terror cell. We were most successful, I'm glad to say."  
Amy bit her lip in thought, he had probably done some dark and dangerous things. People might have died and none of it would ever reach the newspapers though the city would no doubt breathe more easily. There had been several attacks in recent years, in one month a satirical magazine, a rock concert, a sports event and various restaurants had been hit, with many dead. Amy sighed, "It frightens me, Rochefort. I know that governments aren't squeaky clean, but it's dangerous and you could get hurt."  
"Not as much as the other guys. Here we are." He drew up in front of a large classical building where a uniformed man opened her door for her.

Amy blinked as she took in the view. Four colonnaded entrances with cream canopies whose understated elegance announced that she was entering the Paris Ritz. Would she have to go in alone while he parked the car? She looked nervously round and realised that Rochefort was standing behind her with her shabby suitcase. His car glided away. Of course! valet this and valet that would sort out everything. Speaking rapid French, Rochefort waved away the offered help with her luggage.

"I had no idea you were staying here! I hope the government is paying. I don't know... but I always think of Princess Diana when I hear of this place. It's so sad."

"Well, it had a major make-over recently so nothing remains that would have been familiar to her. It's an old institution, Aimée, Coco Chanel lived here at one time, also Ernest Hemingway - and now here you are."  
"Much more interesting is that a current guest is a four hundred year old Count!" she caught his arm playfully as they entered the room.

It was decorated in a muted classical style, unmistakeably French. Pastel blues and cream with a carpet that added shades of pink. Amy ran to the window and gazed out at the gardens below.  
" I've planned something a bit special for your first evening in Paris but it can easily be cancelled if you're too tired to go out".

"I'm tired, but I'm also energised and keen to see the city. I read up online. I really want to see the markets, the left bank, Notre Dame, the Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre.... hey, have you been there in our time? Does it look at all like the palace you remember?"

Too late Amy remembered that it was there that Rochefort received his 'fatal' wound which should have killed him, had the universe not decided otherwise. But he didn't react. Instead he placed her suitcase on a stand and said "You might want to take a shower and change. Don't worry about what to wear, we'll go on a shopping trip tomorrow." He slid his arms around her and propelled her towards the bed. As she put her arms around him she caught a brief scent of his aftershave. His kiss was long, deep, and promised bliss to come. Why wait for night time?


	2. Chapter 2

She knew the tiredness would hit her eventually, she could feel the strangeness in her body - as if it was confused. She'd flown in on the 'red eye' the night before, but had been too excited to sleep much. The time change would catch up with her soon. But now, showered (with Rochefort's help) and changed into fresh clothes, she was eager for her first glimpse of the city. 

Rochefort had ordered an Uber to take them across the city. Amy felt that at another time she would rather go on foot in jeans and trainers. At least the car was more comfortable than a carriage rolling over rutted roads. "I thought for your first evening you'd like to see something of the city at night, so we're going to have dinner on a river cruise." He indicated a long glass-walled river boat furnished inside with the elegance of an old fashioned railway coach. 

Rochefort had ordered a table at the side, with direct view onto the city. Sitting opposite him, Amy could see faint signs of strain around her companion's eyes. He shrugged off the dangerous aspects of his work but it was clear that adjusting to modern life while conducting a secretive job was taking its toll. It had to. At least with her there, he would be able to relax: she would make him take it easy for the two weeks she was in Paris. "Shall I order for us?" he poured two glasses of champagne. Amy shook her head, "I think I'd like to see the menu, It's exciting to be dining in French." 

He had ordered for them both at Chez Gerard back home and she hadn't minded, but it wasn't her way to be that submissive. As the boat began its journey and the evening grew darker, so the lights from the city shone more brightly. Rochefort provided the commentary, pointing out the landmarks as they passed. "There's the Eiffel Tower - Paris' most iconic building, I suppose - you can go to the top if you wish and have a view over the whole city."

Amy had to pinch herself as she took in the view of the Eiffel Tower lit up against the night, "I feel like I've stepped into a postcard," she mused, "But yes, it would be fun to take the elevator to the top as long as you don't do any James Bond stuff, fighting villains and clinging on to the outside for dear life".

He gave a little laugh, "I'm off duty, the only fighting I'll be doing is with myself, trying not to ravish you in plain sight of all the tourists." He took a sip of champagne and gazed thoughtfully at her. "Ah, here is the great Notre Dame cathedral. It was here in my day as was Sainte-Chapelle. Both were built on an island in the Seine, the Ile de la Cité. There's something comforting about that place, even for someone who isn't especially religious like me."

The ancient structure rose majestically before them as the boat slowed so the diners could savour the view. Closer, it would be huge with soaring buttresses and bell towers but due to the delicate tracery it didn't look heavy. "It has withstood eight hundred years of history" Rochefort said, "It's like the soul of this great city."

"In your time its surroundings would have been far different I imagine."  
"Yes, the buildings weren't as tall, so the cathedral seemed even more massive and you could see fields and hills beyond. The inside is as miraculous as the outside. At certain times of day the stained glass sends streams of coloured light into the whole place. Speaking of which, you must also visit Sainte-Chapelle, a chapel made almost entirely from stained glass. It's near Notre Dame, so we can see one, have a croque monsieur for lunch and move to the other. That's one day planned."  
"I'd love that! Oh, and will there be time on this trip for Disneyland?"  
He pulled a strange face, "If you wish it, though don't you have one in your country?"  
"Yes, but America is very big and I don't live near Florida. It will give me a chance to wear my jeans, at least!" she gave him a teasing wink. To her surprise he gave a little laugh. She didn't know if the Comte de Rochefort would stoop to jeans but he would look wonderful in them she thought. He had changed for dinner and was wearing a dark blue jacket, now slung over the back of his chair, a light gray jumper that was probably cashmere and the same airforce blue chinos as before. She wondered if he had kept any of the clothes she had bought for him.


	3. Chapter 3

Rochefort was as good as his word and took her shopping the next morning so that she would be dressed in what he regarded as a suitable manner. She blushed to herself at her simple attempts at freshening up her wardrobe - well, it was fine for Rochefort to have expensive tastes, he had no doubt been born to privilege but she had not. Nevertheless, the sensation of good clothes on her body was sensuous and made her feel beautiful. "I feel like Julia Roberts in that old movie, Pretty Woman." she muttered. "How many rings did you have to sell to take me shopping?"

He laughed, remembering his first attempt at getting modern money. "You know I still have one left, these days I don't need to sell anything. Cherie, how do you feel about opera?"

They were having coffee at a pavement cafe, the precious bags carefully stowed under the table. Amy thought for a moment, "It depends what it is. In Pretty Woman the heroine discovers a love of opera and it makes her cry. I can't imagine doing that, but I'll come to one with you."  
"Good - I'll get tickets for Trovatore, see if you feel like crying at that one. It seems very strange, but the prisons in my time are prisons no more. The Chatelet is a theatre and the Bastille has gone, and in its place is an opera house."  
"I'd say that is progress."  
"So what would you do with the criminals? Let them go free? There's a crime gang currently at work here; it has networks across Europe. It's not part of my patch, but we're aware of them. They are evil, soulless people behind all the misery of this age, drugs mostly. I'd hang the lot of them."  
"You never did tell me if you've been to the Louvre since you came to this time."   
Changing the subject might be the best way of keeping the peace. 

He sighed and leaned back in his chair.  
"I have and it's fascinating. Not sure about that glass pyramid, but anyway, memories for me are hard to bring back - the place is so different now it's an art gallery. Lots of wonderful paintings and objects from the past. You must see it."  
"I'd like to. Oh and Versailles too. Has that changed much?"  
"It was built as a hunting lodge, King Louis turned it into a chateau which I visited a couple of times. It was greatly enlarged after my time. Sadly inside there isn't a lot of original furniture but you should see it and the grounds which are magnificent."

He paid the bill and they walked away, hand in hand.

Stopping on the way back so Rochefort could get more cash, Amy watched him silently. He was wearing his leather jacket from which he withdrew a dark leather wallet. He slid the card into the machine and tapped in the code. No hesitation, no evidence that here was a man born at the end of the sixteenth century. He looked completely at home in her world.

Only she knew the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

After dropping off the shopping at the hotel, they decided to have lunch in one of its bars. "We've got some more walking to do" Rochefort told her as he ordered an omelette and a glass of wine. "You'll need your flattest heels."  
"Not calling for an Uber then?" she teased  
"The Musee d'Orsay is very close, and has some of the finest French art which you should see. The building is also interesting - a former train station, built in a more elegant era; I think you will like it very much. Hey sit still a moment...."  
She looked up as he lifted his phone and tapped it suddenly. "I've got one of these smart phones," he explained, examining it for a moment. "I bought it a couple of days before you arrived, so we can message each other. Now I have a picture of you, I need to make it my, what do you call it?"  
"Screen saver, probably. Here, let me do it for you." Amy took the new i-phone, noticing that it was the latest model, and examined the photo. It was reasonably good of her, although she mostly hated pictures of herself. A couple of seconds later, it was set so that it would be the first thing he saw when he turned the phone on. "How do you communicate with you, um, employers?"  
"I have a separate phone for that, it has no private information at all, of course. I need to get used to this new one. I see people reading the news, listening to music, all kinds of things. One can get too dependent, but I'm sure I won't."  
"You can organise your life with one of these." Amy put her number into his contacts and called her own phone. Switching phones, she stored his number and then raising her hands, there was a click, and a picture of Rochefort, with similar background to her own photo, was very soon her screen saver.   
"Did you not already have me set?" He sounded almost hurt.  
"Of course I did, but I wanted one of you in Paris, to match the one you have of me." He reached across the table and laid a hand over hers.

It was somewhat overcast the next morning. Still in bed, Amy shifted to her side so she could enjoy the view of Rochefort standing naked at the window and thinking. She was sure that the view from the window wasn't half as good as her own. Despite his indulgent lifestyle and the amount of wine he drank, his skin was firm, taut over muscles honed by years of rapier practice. There was a narrow scar along his side, where he hadn't been lucky, and she knew that there were other blemishes which she figured came from his years in a Spanish prison. She had never liked to ask. His scars were those of a seventeenth-century fighting man, and she had become fond of them.  
"Come back here," She murmured, extending a sleepy arm towards him. He shot her an affectionate look, "Chérie, I should like nothing better, but today we are going to the Ile de la Cité. The sun isn't shining and we might as well look at Notre Dame and the Sainte-Chapelle. These glories are of course familiar to me." He had already put his shirt on and was fiddling with cuff links.  
"I shall look forward to it and the personal tour of the city of lights, but first you have to get back here, M'sieur le Comte!"

He dropped the shirt on the floor and rejoined her.


	5. Chapter 5

Amy didn't need a guidebook when she had Rochefort.  
"There are so many memories here, Aimée, I could have stepped back into my world. The place has hardly changed at all. Of course in my time Notre Dame was strictly a place of worship and didn't have the signs and leaflets or all the renovation work." He gave a disapproving look of the scaffolding.  
Amy took a folded leaflet which had a brief plan of the building. "It's huge and yet very personal too. I love the light in this place."  
"More than Sainte-Chapelle?"  
"That was incredible - but in the soft afternoon light this is something else..."

But Rochefort wasn't listening.  
"What is it?" Amy was concerned - was he bored with her company already? He had been solicitous at La Sainte-Chapelle, gently guiding her through the throng of tourists. Now he seemed distracted, staring into the distance.

"Chère Aimée, there's something I have to do. I need you to wait here, take a look around if you like but meet me by the guidebooks in five minutes. I'll be quick but it is best if you keep back..."  
"It's dangerous, isn't it? You are back at your day job..." She had wanted to say 'spying' but didn't wish to be overheard. "Tell me now. I need to know you are not going into danger."

"Not as much as some other people who I need to flush out." He pulled out his mobile phone and pressed it once. There followed a torrent of French that she could barely make out. He cut the call abruptly and slipped his phone away. "I've reported the sighting but have no idea when they will move. Meanwhile you have to wait here...."  
"Terrorists with suicide vests? Tell me it isn't so."  
"It's not. Just your everyday criminals. A low life called Sebastien Grimaud who smuggles drugs and human beings, I mentioned them to you before. I intend to follow him in the hopes he'll lead me to his accomplices or his cache. He's dangerous, so I don't want you anywhere near him."  
"Dangerous? Oh lovely! A nice day seeing the sights of Paris, a delicious lunch and deadly thugs before dinner. Just what I wanted. Can't you send your colleagues after him?"  
"He's dangerous, but so am I. Have no fear, chérie, I won't be long." And he was off, silently and swiftly passing through the last of the tourists. Amy watched his blond hair as he moved like a predatory cat in search of some undisclosed prey. 

She realised there was a lot she didn't know about her seventeenth-century lover. 

Rochefort was as good as his word; he reappeared as cool as if he'd just been to light a candle and they made their exit before the evening service began. A woman had begun what sounded like prayers, but without the microphone it was indistinct. "They're saying the rosary," Rochefort explained "as they have done for centuries in this place".  
"So did you find out what your friend was up to?"  
He nodded. "I believe so, I think he has a cache up in the roof. It's a huge space and cleverly chosen as they can use the temporary workmen's lift to take the crates. With materials for the renovations lying around, no one will notice anything unusual. I'm going to sneak up there later and take a look around."

He led Amy to a cafe in sight of the cathedral and gave her some notes to buy coffee and a chocolate bar. "Promise I won't be long," He whispered, gave her a swift kiss and left. She watched him slip inside the building unobserved as worshippers were leaving. She hoped he wouldn't find himself locked in and unable to get out. Perhaps he had expert lock picking skills.


	6. Chapter 6

Half an hour went by and then three quarters... She found herself staring out of the window at the great West Door and wishing the familiar form would appear. Suddenly she noticed another figure, hooded and indistinct, heading towards the great building. He walked past the great door, which had been locked when the building was closed, and disappeared down one side of the building. She was intrigued; the guy had an air of secrecy. If this was a Bad Person, perhaps that Grimaud chap or one of his posse, then Rochefort might be in some danger. It wouldn't hurt to check, just for peace of mind. 

She walked in the direction of the dark figure but there was no one around. Only flying buttresses, ornate stone pillars that rose like trees to the sky. Behind them and set into the side of the cathedral was a modern door, the kind that would lead into an office room. Curiously, she tried the handle and the door swung open.

She was in a kind of ante room, there were large chests of drawers covered by various chalices, crosses and other items that she didn't know the name of. Hanging up were several of the long robes priests wore for Mass. This must be a sacristy, she realised. Gingerly, she tried the interior door into the church and peered round it. Silence. She was alone in this great medieval building which had stood for centuries before America was even thought of. It was an awesome thought but she had no time for reflection.

Where were they? Rochefort and the Hoodie? Her steps might sound on the stone floor and she was loth to move into the main building. She cast her eyes around for anything like a staircase which could lead to the roof. There was scaffolding where the workmen were securing the ancient structure. The scientist in her briefly figured out its construction and wondered if Rochefort had climbed up it like Batman. She took careful steps along the outer wall. Because of the great pillars on each side of the nave, she couldn't get a clear view around the open space, but she had a feeling that no one was there. Whoever and however many they were, would all be above her. A sign said 'interdit' but behind it was a door, slightly ajar.  
Amy pulled it further open and listened. She heard voices, faintly, from some distance away. Straight in front of her were stone steps. Luckily she had on her trainers and they were less likely to make sounds of footfall. She began slowly to ascend. Rochefort had told her to stay back and she was now doing the very thing he hadn't wanted but she was worried for his safety. What could she actually do to help him, she wondered?

Was she being stupid? She could feel her heart beating and was sure she had started to sweat from fear, although she couldn't feel it. Heightened reflexes would kick in as well as improved hearing - her adrenalin must be slowly going through the roof. Quickly looking back in case she had been followed by a thug in trainers, she reassured herself that she was alone - so far.

Reaching the top of the stairs she paused in the stairwell while the voices were clearer. They were speaking French of course, but she didn't need to understand in order to know they were arguing. Her ears, now fully attuned to all sounds, picked up their words, which her basic French was able to figure out.  
"You should have minded your own business. Never mind, this is a dangerous place and accidents happen."  
"Give yourself up - you can't escape. My men are on their way."  
"Time to leave. You could take the workman's lift, but through the window would be far easier and quicker."

There was the sound of a scuffle and Amy looked round the door frame to see Rochefort confronting Hoodie. With the confidence so familiar to her, he reached into his leather jacket and retrieved his pistol. However his opponent was no drug addict hoping to rob some late-night cinema-goers. As if it had been rehearsed, Hoodie lashed out, jolting Rochefort and dislodging the gun from his hand. It spun across the floor.  
"Oh dear!" Hoodie - Grimaud - made a mock-tragic face and pulled out his knife. Concentrating on Rochefort, who had taken a defensive stance, he spat out his cigarette and sneered. "Better make your peace with God, and where better than in his house, eh?"  
Amy watched breathlessly as Rochefort circled towards his fallen gun. Grimaud, also in semi-crouching position, mirrored him, seemingly not noticing that Rochefort was making for his weapon. Then as if time had speeded up, Rochefort had his own knife out and was staring down his long nose at Grimaud who stuck out his tongue and rolled his eyes at him. It suddenly occurred to Amy that he might not be quite sane.

"Drag it out as much as you want, but only one of us gets out of here alive, and I intend to be walking."

Amy wondered if Grimaud was actually playing with Rochefort like a cat with a mouse. It certainly looked that way. As they circled again, her heart stopped as Grimaud aimed a deft kick at the gun so that it skidded too far away for Rochefort to reach, unless he made a dash for it - which would probably be fatal.

The gun had stopped a couple of yards away from the door frame and Amy darted back, to avoid being seen. The two men were so intent on each other that she didn't think Grimaud had noticed her. She heard, rather than saw, Rochefort make a desperate lunge and a swipe, and then there was a clatter of metal on stone, a gasp and a dull thump as of a body falling. Without thinking more, she darted out and went straight for the gun. Astonishingly the two men still hadn't seen her. 

Standing in the open she now saw why. Grimaud was standing over Rochefort, his knife angled like a butcher's about to chine a joint of meat. He had stopped boasting and was now concentrating on subduing his adversary. Amy knew little of guns, but realised that the safety catch was already off. It was heavier than she expected. How many bullets would it have? She held it in both hands and stretched her arms, aiming at the Hoodie's jacket. 

At that moment he looked up and she saw the glint of a black eye under heavy brows. He had a commanding presence, so much so that she briefly faltered under his intense stare. Grimaud! It had to be him. there was an evil charisma which mesmerised like a snake about to strike. Even hesitating for a second might be too long.... she recalled he dealt in human traffic, and fired, stepping back as it recoiled. She fired again just to be sure. And again. 

Oh God, surely she must have hit him now... She kept firing until the 'click' told her that the magazine was empty. The two figures were writhing now - Rochefort must have taken advantage of Grimaud's momentary lack of focus and pushed him over and under him. The knife was now in his hand and he quickly plunged it into the dark figure. It was over very fast.

Grimaud stopped moving and Rochefort stood up.

"I thought I told you to wait outside!"  
"A simple 'thank you' would be enough, don't you think? I just saved your life since your backup failed to back you up." 

He flexed his wrist, examining a scratch on his hand. "Chèrie, I had it covered."  
"Like hell you did. He was about to kill you. Or was it just a practice routine?" She ran to him and threw her arms round him. "I don't care if you are angry, I love you and I only want you to be safe!"

To her surprise he gave a low laugh and she could feel his arms shaking as he held her. His words had been the adrenaline speaking. She sensed his relief. He drew back and stared down at the dead man. "Did I hit him at all?" She asked, holding out the gun, still warm from firing.  
Rochefort crouched down, pushed the body over and indicated where a bullet had pierced the back. "I felt the punch as the bullet impacted. Yes, you hit him, right in the lung. It would probably have killed him though not quickly enough. But let's not have an inquest. I managed to get a look in the cases he'd stashed and they have enough to convict him for a very long time. Drugs in bags under knock-off watches, fake perfume, all kinds of crap. I think we should leave. His friends might be wondering where he is and I don't think even with the help of your shooting skills that I could hold off the rest of his gang."  
"We make a good team, don't we?"  
"We do indeed, but please don't follow me into danger again. I couldn't bear it if you were hurt. I'd lay down my life before that happened."  
"Is that a lift?"  
"Yes, the workmen use it during the renovations."  
"Let's take it, I am shaking so hard I think I'll trip on those narrow steps."  
"If it's working.... " He held open the glass door. Amy paused and looked wonderingly at the great roof. How many people would ever claim to have been in the rafters of a great cathedral? The massive vault was held up by rows of thick wood, giving the effect of a giant wintry forest. She took a deep breath, marvelling.  
"Those were probably trees alive at the Norman Conquest." He said.  
"Yeah rub it in, France 1, England 0!"  
He tweaked her ear affectionately and the lift began its slow descent.


	7. Chapter 7

As they hurried away from the cathedral square, Rochefort made a phone call which was short and ended abruptly. "They will do the clean up when they've had their evening meal."  
"How very French!" She laughed, "but I suppose a corpse is going nowhere, whereas dinner gets cold."  
"Exactly, ma chere Aimée." He put an arm around her and pulled her towards him. Amy was dimly aware of the connection between sex and danger and found that she was indeed anxious to return to their hotel room with its soft decor and deep, comfortable bed.

"I'd like to take a drink first, just to keep an eye out for any of the accomplices. I can call for help if I need anything."  
Amy sighed, "Okay, on condition that your friends' dinner is over and you don't approach anyone. I'll have a diet soda, I don't think I can do alcohol now. Maybe a bottle of bubbles in our room later." She winked at him.

In times past it was the kind of bar that would be entered via a fog of cigarette smoke. Now in the smokeless world, people sat round looking slightly subdued; working people tired after a busy day at the office. Amy checked her watch, it was still early. Not yet seven o'clock.

Rochefort had a pint of German beer and Amy gulped down two glasses of diet coke. They said little, lost in thought. "You can't talk about what happened." Rochefort said suddenly.  
"It had nothing to do with spies." Amy had been rehearsing how she would tell her family about her brush with danger and how she saved the life of a French agent.  
"Anything that leads back to me must be a secret, cherie. I'm just an importer as far as your friends and family know."

"I'm not very hungry. Can we go back to the hotel?"  
Rochefort nodded agreement and Amy slipped on her coat. As they left the bar it was clear that something was afoot. People were congregating and a group of young people were kneeling on the ground, saying the rosary and occasionally looking up at the sky.

Instinctively, Amy looked up and saw that there was something wrong with the cathedral. "It's on fire!" She cried to Rochefort who had already taken this in. He hurried forward.  
"Mon Dieu!" He muttered.  
"Did we do that?"  
"I don't know..... "  
"Was it a spark from the gun?"  
"More like that cigarette that Grimaud threw down. It probably wasn't his first. He'd been there earlier stashing his crates before the cathedral opened. I think he must have had a key to the sacristy door, or a means of picking it."  
"That beautiful ancient forest...... it will all burn." Amy realised that the cold on her face was caused by tears. Rochefort leaned towards her and put his mouth by her ear, whispering,  
"Time to leave. Come on Amy, we have to get away from here." 

Together on the other side of the Isle they stood with the growing crowd as the flames lit up the night sky, the great cathedral suddenly a mass of sparks and light. There were gasps as the spire listed over and collapsed. It was a terrible but most dramatic sight.  
Amy looked at Rochefort who gazed unblinking at the conflagration. "For eight hundred and fifty years it has stood as a symbol of hope in our great city. Your modern world does not deserve such a thing." He muttered.

"What will happen when they find Grimaud's body and all the drugs?"  
"In that heat he will simply disappear, along with his contraband. He comes from an old criminal family you know. There was one in my time but I never came across him. I found the name recently in a book of records. He's the last of the line. I can't say I'm sorry."

Amy thought for a moment. The world belonged to the living and here was Rochefort, her four hundred year-old lover, warm with life and standing so close to her that she could smell his after shave. Perhaps this would be a line which, after a very long break, might reconnect and flourish?

She very much hoped so.


End file.
